


Peter Pelham's Journal

by Riddle_Me_This_Darling



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Love at First Sight, M/M, Male Slash, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 22:32:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7732258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddle_Me_This_Darling/pseuds/Riddle_Me_This_Darling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forced to attend a party of Lady Rosamund Painswicks's, Peter's gaze falls upon a beautiful footman and he immediately falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peter Pelham's Journal

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my short, one-off story.  
> I have wanted to write a story about Peter meeting Thomas ever since Bertie mentioned his cousin in Downton. I'm currently in the process of writing another story, Needs Must, but I wanted to write a brief short story about a different pairing so I chose a one-sided Peter/Thomas.  
> It can get a little repetitive when you write about one ship over and over so this is a quick little change.
> 
> I would like to write my dream Downton scenario one day where Peter does not die and he and Thomas can live happily ever after.
> 
> For now, this is a one shot and it's a brief journal entry from Peter.  
> I hope you enjoy it but I will warn you now that I wrote this as a distraction from my current situation and it's just a little bit of fun. I wrote this in under an hour so I apologise if it's not perfect and I'm sorry if I've made any errors.

_Dear Journal,_

_Dashed if I know how she does it, but somehow my dear aunt Miranda managed to persuade me to accompany her to yet another blasted party. Lady Rosamunde Painswick, humorous woman that she is, was tonight’s hostess. The London season is my least favourite period of the entire damned year. I despise frivolous, meaningless small talk and if I have waltz around one more dance floor with another simpering, silly woman, I will scream. Peter Pelham, the confirmed bachelor: who will finally win his heart and become the next Marchioness of Hexham? The only shining beacon of hope I had was that I was able to spend time with dear Herbert, the favourite cousin. The dear man was my one saving grace through this entire dull period; in fact, the darling man has been my saving grace since the first day we met. One year older than me, Bertie has always been protective, understanding and non-judgemental, so unlike everyone else I have ever met. He smiled at me from across the room when he conversed with Lady Mabel Atkinson. Sweet Mabel, the sweetest, dullest woman one could ever meet. When I caught his eye, I had thought to myself, “R.I.P Bertie’s sanity.” Bertie’s warm smile was the encouragement I needed._

_I had been on my best behaviour all evening, that I assure you. I had drunk plenty of sweet wine. I lead three young ladies around the dance floor and I even spoke to one of the women for more than five minutes - we actually discussed politics too, not the weather. I entertained Aunt Miranda’s friends before supper and I made quite a good show. I even earned a smile from my disapproving aunt - thank heavens for little miracles! The night dragged on and I’m ended up in the corner of the room where I stood alone by a window, cradling a glass of port to my chest. Now is the moment for truths and I must confess that the real reason why I despise the London season so very much is not because I find the people dull or because I have to force myself to polite converse with those whom I know scorn me behind my back. I’ve heard every rumour, every piece of gossip and I’ve heard the jokes about my numerous travels to beautiful Tangier. I know these pieces of gossip well and I revel in the thought that these people ignorantly assume that I don’t know. They think they are safe to speak to me and to shake my hand because I’m polite, kind, sensitive Peter who is slightly too introverted and artistic to find himself a wife. They simply don’t know that I know. No, the real reason why I loathe this entire beastly pantomime period is because no matter how I try to distract myself from it, I can’t escape the loneliness that comes with being one of the few unmarried men. It’s the dreadful pang that I feel in my chest when I see a young man and a young woman laughing together, both of them talking and dancing together, acting carefree and gay. They have no fear, none at all and why should they? What do they have to fear, all these bright young things with their pink cheeks and glazed eyes? They will fall in love and fear no repercussions, no danger and they don’t need to concern themselves with the matters of the church, the only exception being premarital affairs, of course but I shan’t be vulgar._

_All of those lives that surrounded me tonight, all of the people in the room; I found that nothing related to me or my life. Normally I don’t consider myself a selfish person but there always comes a time in one’s life when one must consider their own place in the world and also their place outside of it. The party I found myself invited to tonight was not my world. I am not one of them, nor will I ever be._

_I heard that Lord and Lady Grantham were staying with dear Rosamunde and that they had brought along their own help to accompany the staff. I did not speak either of them; in fact, I don’t recall ever formally making their acquaintance. I believe I caught a glimpse of one of their daughters, a Lady Edith I believe. I do not think that I have been introduced to their daughter either. I believe they have two children, both of them female. They could possibly have three. I did overhear Lord Grantham, the man whom I only know by face and voice only, call out the name ‘Thomas’._

_The Crawley’s significance in this tale now evaporates as I never heard Lord Grantham speak again. At the mention of the name ‘Thomas’, I had found myself turning my head to the left for a reason I could not explain. I repeat, I did not even see Lord Grantham, I only heard his voice, but what I did see took my breath away and it is a sight that I will never forget, not for as long as I live._

_A young footman, likely the one Lord Grantham’s voice had called ‘Thomas’, approached a group of men behind me, balancing on his arm a tray of sherry glasses. It only took a moment for the glasses to disappear from the tray and then suddenly, the young footman raised his head and I found myself staring into a pair of piercing grey-blue eyes. I was speechless, frozen to very spot I stood on and although the look shared between myself and the young man only lasted for one brief moment, I swear my heart could never fully belong to another again._

_The footman was a tall young man, albeit smaller than myself. I knew this because I recognised the man he was standing next to, Lord Ainsworth, and the footman was the same height as him. I tower over Ainsworth by a good inch. The handsome footman was a very pale thing, in fact he looked slightly unwell but the poor boy had likely been running about all day since the small hours so perhaps he was simply tired. His pale skin was lovely however, very clear and soft looking. He had a small, sharp nose, black hair that dramatically contrasted with his porcelain complexion and, be still my heart, he had the most beautifully structured, fine high cheekbones I had ever seen. He was a study in black, blue and white, the only splash of vibrant colour came from his lovely red mouth, which I so desperately wish I could have kissed. The young man was impressive, the perfect footman with his fine looks, perfect posture and sharp livery. I had thought that my employe, Eric, was the most ‘perfect’ of all the footman with his lightly tanned skin and chocolatey hair but alas, Snow White truly is the fairest of them all. Eric is a trustworthy, obedient servant and I find him attractive but I know that he is a true ladies man, so I would never approach him. He pleased so very much when my butler first hired him but now I fear that whenever I see Eric, I will only long for the stranger whose master lives miles away in the Midlands. I now thoroughly regret not seeking out Lord Grantham. I should have asked Lady Edith if she would have liked to dance with me. Had I of done either of those things, perhaps I would have been invited to visit their home and I would have been able to see the darling boy who stole my heart with one single, brief look one final time._

_Alas, it was not meant to be. Besides, it’s highly likely that the young man will marry a pretty maid or perhaps he will run off with one of the Crawley daughters._

_I feel utterly depressed and I hate the London season even more. I have decided that as of now, I am going to travel more and spend longer months in Tangier. There are beautiful people there, wonderful fellow artists and poets. I shall rid my thoughts of the pretty footman forever and I will certainly never attend another party that the Crawley’s have also been invited to._

_I’m not bitter journal, I’m hopeful. I long for a golden sun and I long escape England’s judgement._

_God save the bloody queen._

_And definitely save my dear footman and let him come to no harm. I hope that the boy never suffers from a broken heart. Let him have the option to settle down and marry. May he never feel alone._

 

 

 

_Peter._

 

 

_P.S. Journal, I hope Thomas the footman visits me in dreamland so we can be reunited once more. Perhaps I will whisk him away to Tangier where we can bathe in crystal blue waters beneath the Moroccan sunset. A bit of sun might do him some good._

 

_P.P.S I promised the sweet old widow next door, Mrs Abram, that I would take care of her cat, Duchess, whilst she was visiting Paris. I regret this decision as I find myself foiled once again by my own kind nature. I'm a bloody pushover. The damn cat is clawing at my curtains but I don't want to poor animal to sleep alone as it frets for it's mistress often. My butler, footman, maid and cook aren't fond of pets so I'm stuck with the small beast. Why couldn't she have owned a dog? Dogs do not scratch your curtains!_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this short, bittersweet tale.
> 
> I would like to write a proper, full length story about Thomas and Peter one day. If I do, maybe I could give a little nod to this one shot and have Peter remember Thomas years later. His perfect footman is no longer 'perfect' and sadly, Thomas has known loneliness, suffering and he's nursed many broken hearts but despite it all, Peter will love him.
> 
> I also want to say that I adore cats. I have a blue ragdoll named Bonnie. I'm currently stuck in a hospital and I miss her terribly (she's staying with my brother, nobody panic!)
> 
> Feel free to comment, I try to reply to every comment I receive. Thank you again.


End file.
